Dragon Riders
by E-R-Aranyi
Summary: Robin is part of the small tribe in the Withered Heath, the place where dragons breed. Everyone in her tribe gets their own dragon, and she was the one that got the runt. Both her and her dragon don't get along, but when their home is attacked and their forced to flee into the rest of Middle Earth, they have to learn how to work together. I do not own LOTR, just my OC and stuff.
1. Chapter 1

I come from Withered Heath. A tribe between the two sides of the Grey Mountains, high in the clouds.

There is a good hundred of us, small compared to others, though it is not like we have ever seen other places. I, myself, have never placed a foot outside the boundaries of Withered Heath. It is forbidden for someone my age, still considered a child amongst the bigger men and woman.

I have heard stories. From the older men. The ones that weren't born in these snowy plains. Instead, they talk of tall trees with soft leaves that would protect them from the harsh sunlight.

But that was thousands of years ago, and our people tend to age slowly. Over that time, we managed to tame the animals we found in the Withered Heath.

I cannot remember how because I was not born then. Never have I been told the story, just told the present and the rules I must follow to insure I can stay with the tribe and not be outcasted.


	2. Chapter 2

"Watch his tail!" Swifter shouts with his raspy voice.

I barely have a second to duck away, missing the sharp whip by only a metre. It makes a sharp sound that echoes off the nearby cliff face.

"Back on your feet," his demands make me puff in exhaustion, struggling to get back on my sore feet, "and watch every move he makes."

I stare at the dragon, lifting my eyebrow in annoyance when it tries to snap at me with it's large row of teeth. Jerking my right hand out of range, I use Swifter's advice and snake round the beast, watching it's every movement.

"How long do I have to dance around this runt?" I ask my teacher, growing bored from doing nothing but moving from side to side.

There's a thump on the ground, the vibration shaking as the animal stomps harshly before taking flight. The shaking causes me to loose balance, falling over onto my back. Snow weeps into my clothes, melting at the touch of my body heat.

"Oh shit!" I peer up, still recovering from my hard fall, just to curse once again as the sun is covered by a large black shape. It swoops a bit before disappearing behind the high cliff line.

"Oh come on!" I scream, rolling over onto my stomach, breathing hard in exhaustion. Ankles burning, I use the last power in my arms to jerk myself off the ground and onto my feet.

"Why must all our training lessons end like this?" Swifter asks, moving forward to help me off the ground.

"Because we can not stand each other! There is no connection between me and that beast!"

Swifter bends down, his dark eyes peering straight at me with no understanding at all. I know about him and his dragon. They are one of the best fliers in all of Withered Heath, putting all the other dragon riders to shame with their incredible fluency.

He shouts at me then, using his strong arms to bring me to my feet. I stumble a bit at the force, embarrassed at my clumsiness in front of my teacher.

He says that I have disgraced the bond between me and my dragon. That it is a privilege that me and this dragon are able to communicate, while sometimes there are people from our tribe that completely refuse their beast.

My fair older sister starts laughing once she sees me emerge from the training square with no dragon behind me. She places down her dragon knuckle bones and stands up from the circle containing her friends, her smirk growing wider when she can see my face clearly. Compared to her shinning skin, I must be extremely dirty.

"When, oh when, little sister, will you ever learn how to control that beast?" she laughs, sticking her index finger hard right into my cheek, digging it in until I have the nerve to bite at it through my skin.

I shove her away as she giggles some more, her friends' laughing as well.

"I still haven't reached the same time it took you, you parasite!" I snark and she gasps at my insult. It wasn't usual that I would dare to call my sister a parasite, but with the stress coming from the dragon and her teasing, I just couldn't hold it in.

"At least I'm not a runt."

With that comment, she walks back to her friends and doesn't speak another single word. I walk away too, knowing very well that at dinner time she will be chatting with me normally and we will both forget about this encounter. But that thought doesn't stop the rage in my heart as I slam my bedroom door open and kick my bed in frustration.

"God! I curse you, you stupid dragon!" I scream, my voice echoing off the stone walls of my cave room, the noise rebounding all the way out until it echoes back to me.

Who's idea was it to bind this stubborn dragon and I? My sister, Athens, had a shy dragon that wouldn't dare to look at her for the first few weeks. But now she has made it one of the best fighters at it's young age that has been seen around Withered Heath in years. Many other dragons I've seen around with their new owners, could never live up to the nerve of mine.

Mother says it's just because he is young and rebellious, and tells me time will make him obedient. When she told me this, I had thrown my plate on the ground in rage and spat at her feet.

Cracklash is a prick, a right old arse. If he could ever see the way that I see him, I believe he would vomit. That would be, if dragons could vomit in the first place. My mother didn't know him like I do. The way he glares at me whenever I go to clean him, or the slow grinding sound he will make with his teeth if I ever get too close.

My whole family, from my great great great great grandfather, down to me, they have all been great dragon riders. Always at the age of 2000, would each of us be presented with the gift of our dragon eggs. From there, we raise them.

It was never smooth sailing between Cracklash and I. We always fought over the stupidest things ever since he learnt how to talk. My mother tried to help me but it is forbidden for anyone else but the owner of the beast to try and tame it.


	3. Chapter 3

"What a runt." A slightly younger version of me snarls, poking my dirty finger into the dark aqua dragon's hide.

My whole family had tried to convince me that the dragon wasn't too young at birth or that it wasn't a stale breed. But I knew they were lying. All my life I had studied the creatures and knew they were supposed to be larger and fully coloured when they are born.

When Cracklash came out, he still had white feet that wobbled from early birth. At the tip of his tail, there was a small kink where he had grown wrong in the egg.

But the spell had already been set upon us before his birth. I had chosen his egg, a small egg with a small dent in it's side, thinking nothing of it back then when I was only little. The spell was cast in black speech and our bond was made. When I grew older and started learning new things about baby dragons and which ones were more powerful, I soon realized my own mistake.

My sister had chosen a strong egg, it's shell covered in a strange iron plating that the dragon egg keeper had never seen before. It soon turned out that it was an iron dragon, slightly rare and powerful beasts that nearly everyone in our tribe was jealous of.

"I can not have a runt dragon for my daughter!" My father yelled at the tribal master. But he was sent away, the rules set as this was the only dragon I could ever get.

So I took the runt dragon up in my hands and stared deep into it's bright blue eyes. It had taken awhile to accept my dragon, the pain I had felt when I had seen it's runt body. I knew then it wouldn't be strong, nor the best. I knew it was one that would die early on and never develop a true bond with me. Because it was a runt and the whole tribe knew that runts never survived.


	4. Chapter 4

There's an eyeball in my soup, it's veins dark with death and the stench so vial it makes my nose cringe. This is my sister's favourite dinner, cow eyeball soup. As my bent spoon taps it slightly, I cannot ignore the strong urge to vomit and gag. This will be another dinner I miss out on, due to Athen's fussy eating.

"If you will not eat the soup," Athen's grumbles at me through her full mouth, "then feed it to your pathetic pet."

"He may be pathetic, but he could never live up to your stupidity." I snap, swiping up the full bowl of soup and stumbling out of my seat that some of the warm, murky liquid drops onto my wrist.

"How are you ever supposed to get better at archery if you won't eat your protein?" the gab from Athen makes my blood boil.

Then there's a loud growl and I stomp my foot in rage, shouting fierce curses as I storm out of the large cave door. Her cackling laughter follows me, a couple of revolting snorts cutting out the wicked noise in places.

Cracklash is sitting there, his head resting glumly on the lumpy ground, a few dead leaves finding their way up his nostril just to be blown out as he breathes deeply. This is the time I find him beautiful...

"Come on you beast, have some bloody cow eyes," I state sharply, chucking the bowl at the dragon's forehead so it hits him to my delight.

"Good shot," he teases, displaying his sharp teeth in a sick grin, "maybe you could apply it to your archery skills so that in a couple of years, you might actually hit the target."

Picking up a rather big stone from the dirt, I hurl it at Cracklash's muzzle, "Any more useless words from you," I declare loudly, "and I swear, the next thing my sister is to be munching down her large gob is to be your lazy eye!"

"My eyes are much more straight than yours." he snarls, moving closer with snake-like movements, "What do they call you here behind your back? Rotten? Unstraight? Runt of the tribe? Can never hit a single arrow close to a target?"

"I am going to murder you one day, Cracklash the stubborn," my threaten just makes the dragon's grin widen and his eyes light up in delight, "I don't care if I will ruin my kin's history of dragon riding, but I refuse to work with such a worthless beast that can not take on a rider because he is completely lame!"

His grin slowly fades at the hard insult I have just thrown his way, "you think me lame?" he questions as I nod firmly, "you think I can not take on a rider?"

"I believe you never will, you will be known as Cracklash the Lame, along with your other title, Cracklash the fireless." I jab once again, knowing I have his anger rising with every word, "I can't believe I had to choose you! The squirmy runt! Out of all the hundred eggs, I got the spoilt one."

"And out of all the riders, I got the lame rider. Who wants a rider who can not even fight off the enemy while they are busy trying to fly through battles. Who wants someone who can not even stay saddled for a minute!" his spit sprays all over the ground, soaking my hair with it's sticky texture.

About to shout another insult, I stop once a familiar cackling laughter comes back to my ears. Turning around with all the right intention to scream my sister's ears off, I see her iron dragon standing behind her, it's cold glare set on Cracklash, daring him to make any move.

"I see you and your pathetic dragon are getting on quite nicely," she teases while her dragon, Mithril, grins in delight.

I narrow my eyes at her, feed up with her teasing for today. We are supposed to be sisters. But ever since I got Cracklash, she has been treating me like an outcast already.

"Nice to see you runt," she speaks brightly, "I hope you do not mind me asking, but what on earth happened to your tail? Did a boulder squash it?"

I hear Cracklash growl at her, displaying his large white teeth. But he would never be able to take Mithril down. It is useless to even try.

"Shove off Athen," I snap at my sister, wanting to get her gone as soon as possible, "there is no need for you, or your dragon, to be here."

Mithril immediately jerks her whole body forward, snarling until her eyes turn a bright yellow. They shines all over both her eyes, hiding the small black dot. Her breath is skank, smelling deeply of fish and cow meat. With her teeth so close to touch, my heart starts to thump heavily against my chest, pumping up into my ears as fear takes over my body.

"Watch your feet," Athen states, jumping onto Mithril's iron back with swifty speed, "we wouldn't want you to lose your head, now would we?"

Her beast then backs off with a warning rumble aimed at me. The giant metal body shuffles a bit, it's joints clanking with the movement. The iron rubs against itself whenever the she-dragon takes a step, a sound which will never make this dragon a stealthy one. But it's armour will protect it from nearly every weapon.

I take a side glance at the small dragon I am bonded with, the runt dragon with white socks and a ruined tail. Compared to Mithril, he is pathetic looking. Everyone in the village knows how poor Cracklash is. Even with the developing muscles on his legs and the stern eye he can shoot your way, he is still the runt of all our dragons.

"She is only 200 years older than you," I snap at him, angry at his size, "why do you have to be a runt? Me, out of all the riders, I had to receive the runt."

"Like dragon, like rider."

I huff at his response, folding my arms in frustration. It is true. What Cracklash speaks.

I am a runt too.

Never have I been able to fire at a target and hit within three metres. There's never been a time where I've felt pride during sword lessons, nor during medicine classes. My father has stopped talking to me on a regular basis, all because of my failing skills in everything to do with our culture.

"Kneel." I demand Cracklash, my heart burning with pain about the last encounter with my father and his disappointed face.

The blue beast grumbles, lowering his back so I can at least haul myself up onto his spiky back. There is no saddling equipment, something that is required to ride a dragon.

"I would ask about safety but I don't care whether you get thrown off or not." he snaps as I approach his side, my right hand outstretched to touch his side.

Upon contact, Cracklash snarls in annoyance, his eyes rolling in disgust. The feeling is mutual between us, but my stomach is jumping with nerves.

"With your pathetic riding, I will certainly be thrown off," I state, struggling to throw one leg over the broad back placed in front of me. Small spikes cut into the fabric of my brown leggings, not making any damage to the material.

Bouncing on the ground with my right foot, I get ready to fling myself onto his back. We were taught how to do this on a large fallen tree. Many students managed to settle comfortably on the rough bark.

For some reason I always...

With a cry of help, I over do the leap and slide straight off, onto the other side of Cracklash's back. The ground thumps me hard on the back as I land, a groan pressed out of my chest in pain.

...fall off.

"And just like always," Cracklash jabs, smirking while swinging his head round to display his bright eyes, "she destroys step 1 on riding a dragon."

"Ugh, I think I broke my wrist."


	5. Chapter 5

My mother shouts at me this time. Not Swifter. But the powerful, ruthless monster that birthed me over 2000 years ago. Her jaw does a huge workout with the amount of rambling she is doing.

With my hand in a tight bandage, I don't blame here. It wasn't a break, but a good sprain.

"What were you thinking Robin? You could have been seriously injured, or worse killed. Your father is thinking about killing your dragon and ridding you of your riding privileges. I would have allowed him if I still didn't hold hope for you and that dragon."

Still in pain, I can only nod while grinding my teeth. If I didn't, my tongue would slip out and splutter words everywhere on my thoughts about Cracklash.


	6. Chapter 6

A roar wakes me up my uncomfortable position on the rock bed, my head resting in an odd position. It cracks as I stand on my shaky legs, the pain making me groan loudly.

"Robin!" Athen's yell comes bursting through the corridors, making my feet move faster to the front door. She's standing there, her muscular legs quivering along with her fine eyebrows.

"What!" I shout back, not enthusiastic about anything she probably has to say right now.

But then she shows me the blood on her hands and I instantly move into my battle position.


	7. Chapter 7

"Cracklash, we are evacuating the area!" I shout at the stubborn dragon,

pulling hard down on his reins. Fear jolts through me when he doesn't

listen and just keeps pulling away harder.

"The Gords' are invading!"

A dark dragon storms out right behind us, breaking down the tall stone walls that keep our village safe. It shakes it's head and sparks of flame sparkle everywhere. Below it's feet are several figures, clad in black spikes and twisted helmets. They are the orcs from the west, outraged with our strong hold in Withered Heath.

"Flame Dragon!" a man from my tribe announces, jumping gracefully onto the back of his own beast and signals it to fly off. It roars in pain as it's own tail catches alight.

Breathing hard in shock, I watch as the Flame Dragon lunges forward and takes the rider and his dragon in one bite. There's a snap of it's teeth closing and the screams get louder around me as the whole village starts to panic even more.

Flame Dragons are extremely rare beasts, ever since they were thought to be wiped out years ago. Usually the big ones have no wings because their weight is too large to defy gravity.

Fire everywhere, I can not stop staring at the massive dragon. Our beasts are miniature to the giant hide this beast possesses.

"Oi!" Athen's hands jerk me away from the dragon and drag me further away from the Flame Dragon and through a large wooden gate. Everyone is rushing through here, beast in tow as they attempt to flee the threat.

Athen forces my eyes to meet hers as she asks me a question I should have known the answer to.

"Where is your dragon?"

Looking down at my sweaty hand, I no longer see the leather strap that Cracklash was attached to. A sense of emptiness hits me, soaking my heart with panic.

Turning back to the village, I search the area for the small cowering dragon. But all I see are burning stalls and the last remaining people trying to flee before the Flame Dragon reaches this side of the mountain.

It's roars are getting closer as it lumbers round the tall rock face that inside, contains many houses and homes.

"Cracklash!" I scream, trying to get him to reveal himself. But even if he did roar back in reply, I wouldn't have heard him. Loud thumps block my ears, not the footsteps of the Flame Dragon, but the rising heartbeat my chest is struggle to hold steady.

There is a scream as more of my people are injured by the flames. Red starts to eat the home I grew up in, gnawing at the wooden beams that held the roof over my head. The snow at my feet starts to melt, turning to porridge as it allows my legs to sink down into it.

Then there's a split second. A second where the mighty Flame Dragon turns around and stares down at my quivering form. It seems to smirk, using it's large yellow eye to take my senses away and leave me like a statue.

Maybe this is the end. I thought my death would be better, maybe in an actual dragon battle, sword in my hand as I use my last remaining breaths to conjure my opponent.

Never would I have imagined dying at the feet of a Flame Dragon. Mother

would mourn, but not for very long. Athen would laugh. Cracklash would be

made an outcast.

Claws grab at me and take a strong hold of my clothes. A few dig into my skin and burn on contact. But the pain subsides as I'm jerked to the side and then taken fully off the ground. With my feet dangling there, I scream in shock at the feeling of flying, finally broken away from my mind.

[

The Flame Dragon is gone, hidden behind a layer of thick black smoke that the fire has created. As I gain distance from my village, the screams do not stop piercing the air. It's terrifying and makes me feel uncomfortable.

That is when I realize I am the one screaming.

"I cannot fly properly with that noise!"

"Cracklash!" I exclaim with my chest thumping. He saved me.

Instead of running away and hiding, he stood with courage and took me out of harm's way.

There's a loud grumble from his rough hide before he goes quiet again.

Silence spreads around us as he beats his way across the sky, charging through white clouds, the midday sun beating down on us both.

I find courage as well, to look down below and stare at the height I have gained in the sky. Below, I can see mountain tops and sometimes the

occasional fleeing dragon.

"What about the others?" I ask, thinking about the tribe as a whole. Sure everyone has a way out, they will be able to escape the Flame Dragon. But where are we going? How are we going to stay together?

"Do you want me to go back now and try to find them with that Flame Dragon still there?" he snaps, whipping around tall trees now. There is signs of a large forest below, green everywhere that it's hard to see anything on the ground.

"Land." I demand, smacking once on his claw.

"No, I am going to continue flying until an area I know pops up." he states, beating his wings faster to speed us up.

"How dumb can you be Cracklash? Neither of us have ever been outside Withered Heath, so how are we supposed to find a place now that we know?"

With a tired shake of his neck, he dives down and crashed through the tangled orange leaves that covered the surrounding trees. I have never seen anything like this before, scanning the area while taking in the many sites that never appeared in Withered Heath.

"It's warm."

I realize, after Cracklash has made that comment, that he speaks the truth. Never before have I experienced heat like this, one that starts to bring sweat to my forehead and back.

It reminds me of the Flame Dragon. It's fire as well.

"Someone's coming!"

[

 **OMG, DRAMAAAAAAAA. Hahaha. hmmm.**

 **I want to make another fanfiction, this time with Boromir and an OC, it will be a humor and like a musical. Just saying.**

 **But yeah, don't judge me!**


	8. Chapter 8

At night, Cracklash grows too tired to hold us both up in the air anymore. He slowly glides down, crashing through the trees, his body slumping onto the uneven ground.

His nostril opens and closes and he inhales and exhales deeply. I wriggle out of his grip, my stomach scraping along the rough terrain around me.

"Great." I mutter, looking around for any sign of food, or fresh water.

Trust my runt of a dragon to land us in the middle of nowhere with no food and water. He is going to be the death of me.

His breath sweeps up fallen autumn leaves, the colour of orange and brown dancing around me.

"Unless you had time to pack a loaf of bread, we will have to move on to somewhere there is food. Eatable food."

Cracklash either doesn't hear me or deliberately chooses to ignore me. He seems too peaceful. I guess I can let him sleep for a few hours.

Sighing, I seat myself a few metres away, slumping against a tree trunk. The bark gives me a sense of my surroundings, telling me that even if I go to sleep, I'll still know where I am and how I got here.

"I hope Athen is safe, plus Mother and Father."

My words reassure me, giving my racing heart a more steady beat. Tears mark my cheeks in sorrow as I think more of the home we have just left behind.

I never would have guessed yesterday, that I would be forced to flee Withered Heath, along side Cracklash to fend for myself in the wild forests.

We don't have any wild animals in Withered Heath. The dragons take care of that, scaring away any approaching white wolves with their large fangs and powerful wings.

Cracklash would never be able to fend off any wild animal. They would all laugh at him. Even though he has the fierce facial features of a fire dragon, the kink in his long tail and his white socks make him look like what he is. A runt.

"But he's my runt."

Frowning at the words that slipped out, I rub my fingers together to think. I'm not developing motherly feelings for my dragon, am I? Never have I thought of him as mine, nor my runt.

The wind is like a punch, starting suddenly and ending too soon for me to get used to it. It hits me hard every few seconds, making my skin prick up in reaction. With a shiver, I wrap my arms around my legs to try and keep warm.

If Cracklash was a real fire dragon, he would be able to breath flame.

But he has never gained the ability to breath such magic. He might be a mixed breed, but they always die at birth, or their shells explode when born.

Mixed breeds are not something Withered Heath gains. But there is no way that Cracklash can be a mixed breed. He has all the markings of a runt fire dragon.

Slowly, due to my thoughts, I get to drift off to sleep. With the wind still biting at my exposed forearms, I dream of Withered Heath, wishing my life was back there in safety.


	9. Chapter 9

The next morning is tough, the wind having frozen half my body to a statue, though it did not kill me. Growing up in the snowy mountains helped and I was accustomed to the freezing cold.

"Food and water," I speak up as Cracklash lumbers beside me, "that is the most important thing we need right now."

He grumbles, probably too tired to talk. I can tell by the way he's stumbling from side to side as well. He slept through all the night and he is still exhausted.

I won't deny that a shot of fear runs through me at this moment. Cracklash shouldn't be tired. He rested well enough.

But I will not ask him if he is feeling under the weather. My pride will not let me show sympathy for this runt.

"Can you detect a stream nearby?"

Another grumble as he opens up his large nostrils, exposing his sleepy face to the brisk wind.

"A couple miles." he answers, his first words for the past five hours since I woke up.

Nodding, I take another note of our surrounding, "we should be able to find food within that time." and force my stride into a faster one, trying to keep up with Cracklash's monstrous steps.

Every time my mind thinks back to Withered Heath, I have to shake it out. I can not let myself drown into my thoughts again like I did last night. I have to prove to Cracklash that I am strong and not the weakling of my tribe.

If I can survive this and return to my family, they will see me as capable of being named a warrior. Then my sister will show me respect. My father will finally talk to me again, maybe even look at me from the other side of the dinner table.

He won't be ashamed of my clumsy hands. Nor turn away whenever I miss the target in shooting training.

I am determined to do this, to prove that I am a Heather and make my father, Drake Heather will accept me as one of the family because I can prove myself worthy of the title.

In my thoughts, something I hoped I wouldn't let myself sink into, I loose all sense of my surroundings.

The world spins suddenly, the ground coming closer to meet my face. In contact, I hit my chest and face while getting a mouth of dirt.

In all the pain, I inhale in with shock, just to take it lumps of the forest floor.

My body jerks up in seconds, coughing to get rid of the dirt in my lungs. Only after a few choking noises can I breath again.

It's not until then that I also realize I am awfully tired. My legs are jelly, dead beside me. Yawning a bit, I struggle back onto my feet. Cracklash is staring at me, eyes dead with exhaustion as well.

"It's the forest."

"What?" I ask, looking up as he snarled.

His bent tail lashes a bit around, creating a whip like noise until it settles, "the forest is draining our energy. Feeding off it."

I realize then that he is right. Ever since I arose from sleep, I've been feeling more tired as time went by. The trees are rich, strong and tall. Only because they are feeding off any living energy that wanders into their branches.

There is a growl from beneath our feet, shaking it a bit. The forest is alive and we are it's food source.

"Can you fly?" I puff out, my mouth flopping because my jaw muscles are giving up.

But Cracklash's wings are dragging along the ground, scraping the dirt to make two lines in the ground. Fear is everywhere now, infecting my mind with the thoughts of what we might be in the next twenty minutes.

Maybe less than twenty minutes.

It's a weird feeling, your legs falling asleep before you have fallen. All the nerves in my thighs and ankles seem to cut off. With a sigh of exhaustion, I drop to my knees and slowly make myself comfortable on the ground.

My mind has no longer control of my body as it finally gives into the sleep it is desperately craving for. Just like a rag doll, my body shuts off, even though my mind is still slightly awake.

But the forest is greedy, feeding off every last burst of energy I contain in me. Sinking down into my dreams again, I let my eyes close into darkness and allow my body to rest.

[[]]

 _I remember. Remember something my teacher told me. In training, he spoke of the bonds of dragon and rider. There was many things he told me, many things I stayed up late in the night to remember and engrave in my memory._

 _"How strong do you think a bond can be?" he had asked, with that same passionate look he wore when speaking about dragons._

 _There was a reason why he was the best dragon trainer. His passion for our animals was greater than anyone I've ever known._

 _"Strong enough so that we can fly together.."_

 _He had cut me off with a stern look, one I knew that meant I got something wrong._

 _With a step toward Cracklash, he reached out and stroked the dragon's forehead, much like someone would do to a horse._

 _"A bond between dragon and rider can be stronger than just riding together. There is limitless things a bond can allow a rider and dragon do together."_

 _He then had walked over to me, reached out to take my hand, and when I had taken it, lead me over to Cracklash._

 _Back then, our bond was better. I hadn't yet called Cracklash a runt, nor had we said anything to make the other angry. These were the days where Cracklash and I still respected each other. I was thrilled on having a dragon, even if I knew he was a muck-up._

 _There was still hope back then that he would become stronger as he got older._

 _"One of those things is strength." he had spoken up while he had placed my hand on Cracklash's head, "through a strong bond, dragon and rider can give each other extra strength to combine as one. This will give one more energy and strength far beyond anything either of you could do alone."_

 _"All you have to do is believe in the bond between you and your dragon, Robin, and the power of this ability will come easy to you both."_

 _I had hugged Cracklash's head and giggled at the new information I had learnt. I had hoped back then that Cracklash and I would be the best warriors in Withered Heath._

 _"All you have to do is believe."_

[[]]

My dream wakes me up. Not the freshness of sleep. The bags under my eyes are stopping my vision from opening up fully.

I have barely slept. Or have I slept for hours, but this forest is continuously making me feel tired.

"Cracklash?" I mumble, rubbing my eyelids in sleep.

At least I'm stronger than I was before I went to sleep. My legs feel more strong, like they are being given an energy boost.

The ground is moving.

It's also breathing.

But now that my eyes are open, I see that I am no longer on the ground, but nestled on Cracklash's back, jammed between two spikes. He is stumbling, his feet dragging themselves and his head bowed low to the ground.

The breathing I can feel isn't strong. It's ragged and struggling. I can not imagine how long he's been walking like this, nor what brought him to helping me up onto his back.

Then Swifter's words come back to me, invading my mind with his deep voice.

'through a strong bond, dragon and rider can give each other extra strength to combine as one. This will give one more energy and strength far beyond anything either of you could do alone. All you have to do is believe in the bond between you and your dragon, Robin, and the power of this ability will come easy to you both.'

I reach out, my right arm shaking with the strength it's taking to keep it up in the air. It flops after a minute, landing hard on the rough scales covering Cracklash's quivering back.

Thankfully it's close to one of his neck spikes, which I grab a hold of. My breaths are becoming deeper as I try to stay awake. I doubt Cracklash would hear me fall off him, he's too tired.

"Come on Robin," I mutter, shifting my leg up and over the spike I'm jammed between.

Now I'm balancing on his side, trying to not fall asleep and drop to the ground. I have his forehead in sight, if I can only reach it to touch it.

That's how Swifter showed me, to create a stronger bond, the hand on the forehead is the strongest connection. But I need to reach it first before I can make the connection.

I slip, my legs coming out beneath me as I swing across the side of Cracklash. Without seconds to spare, I flick my leg up with a bit of my remaining strength and hook it into the neck spines Cracklash has.

One of his sharp hooks digs into my skin, securing a strong hold in my skin and flesh. It hurts and I cry out in pain, hanging only by my right hand and right leg on Cracklash's side. I sway with every lumbering footstep he takes and it throbs the wound in my ankle.

Growling, I lift up my left arm and make a grab for another neck spike. It wraps around and I get ready to haul the rest of my body up.

He moves violently at that moment, dropping suddenly at that moment by a metre. Cursing, I accidentally let go of the hold I have with my right hand and my left hand's fingers start to slip.

But my leg is still firmly stuck in and takes most of the weight of my body. So bring my hanging right arm up again, I grab the spike and haul the rest of my body up.

Moving my right leg out of it's hold, I hiss at the flesh wound created by the spike. With blood reaching the surface, I don't have a lot of time to create the connection.

"God, I hope this works."

Slapping my sore hand on Cracklash's head, I reach in deeper to find the core of his mind. Once found, I hook myself into it, determined not to let go until we are out of this forest.

There is a sudden drain of colour from my skin and everything around me starts to go dizzy. But there is a difference in the heartbeat under me. It starts to beat faster and become more full of life.

"Robin?" Cracklash speaks up, his head lifting from what I can see.

The faint feeling grows stronger, but Cracklash starts to get fast and his wings stop making the rough dragging sound on the forest floor.

There should be enough energy in him to get his wings working.

"Fly." I whisper, pressing my hand harder onto his forehead, "fly quickly!"


	10. Chapter 10

Athen POV

"Where are we?" Athen speaks up, peering round the clearing with the help of her dragon at her side.

Her mother steps up beside her and stares at the tall trees of the forest in front of them.

"Mirkwood." she speaks, touching one of the trees before rubbing her fingers together in thought.

"The elven place? From your stories?"

Her mother nods before walking forward, dragon following her steps. Athen looks behind her and gives a long hard observation of the few riders left with them.

Some had died on the journey through the mountains, not able to continue on with the wounds they carried. A couple dragons collapsed, their hearts giving out for the lose of their owners, while some riders committed suicide over their lost dragons.

But the biggest pain of all was the sorrow Athen felt for her sister, Robin. She was only so young and not ready to die yet. Mithril has seemed to notice her discomfort whenever Robin was mentioned during the journey out of the mountains.

"Here, we will find Lord Thranduil, leader of Mirkwood." Mother announces to the remaining tribe members, "he is an old friend of mine and will help with our situation."

A few people around Athen mutter and mumble, mostly about death and the suffering of their lost homes and family.

"I know we have lost many friends tonight, both dragons and riders. But we must remain strong, for we may be the only dragon riders left of our tribe. The eggs are still in Withered Heath and most of our warriors were killed."

Athen can feel a tear slipping down her cheek in reaction to her mother's words. She seems to speak as if it didn't matter to her at all. Athen always knew her mother had a heart of stone, but she never thought if it as this strong.

The stone heart her mother is displaying must have iron and diamond hidden deep beneath the stone, keeping her stronger than anyone here.

Athen wishes her mother would show more sympathy for the town. Only a week ago did Withered Heath fall. Only a week ago did everyone loose someone beloved.

But Athen is still standing and she knows this. Her and Mithril got away with barely a scratch. They are still strong, ready to fight anything that comes their way. She will not let her family name become unknown and not respected now.

"Let's go." Athen demands as her mother walks into the forest, dragon in tow.

It is time for her to show leadership and rise above everyone else to rebuild their broken tribe. But first, they need help, special help from the elves of Mirkwood, beings that all of them have only heard in tales.

Athen doubts the elves will know about dragon riders, nor about Withered Heath. It will come to be a surprise for them both once they finally make it to the kingdom.

The forest is twisted, tight and there are voices, whispering around to each other, never overlapping as if they wait their turn to speak. Mithril growls, her head hanging low to avoid the overhanging branches. A few dragons snap twigs as they walk, not careful enough to watch the ground to see what they are stepping on.

This is new surroundings for all of them. Withered Heath is snow, something that is easy to treed on and land on without having to think about it too much.

Here, the ground is hard and lumpy, covered in roots of trees that stick out to trip up a wandering past foot.

"Strange." Athen mutters when seeing a large, colorful animal flutter close to her face. She jerks back when it suddenly darts away, disappearing into the darkness of the woods.

One of the elders, her snow dragon stumbling a few feet behind, walks up to Athen's side, "these are strange parts, dear, there is no telling what we may encounter here. We can only hope your mother knows what she is doing."

She is old. Athen's does not know how she survived the battle but she did. Many of the elders died within the first day of traveling.

With her circular brown eyes, she smiles at Athen before limping back to her old dragon. Athen can not but help wonder why a woman, with no fierce features and not a strong health was able to survive this long.

Hopefully she survives till the kingdom of Mirkwood. They will have food and other needs there. If they will accept them in, of course.


End file.
